


Sun Stroke

by Tarnit



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarnit/pseuds/Tarnit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of quiet and care between Ganondorf's lieutenant's while Zant suffers from too much exposure to the realm of light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun Stroke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xensilverquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xensilverquill/gifts).



A low moan greeted Ghirahim as he entered the darkened tent. With the bowl of cool water under one arm, soft rinsing cloths and robes thrown over the other, he stepped quickly to his lover’s side. Buried in the over plush seating pillows, Zant hid from all forms of light as he shivered through his misery. 

“Hush, my shadow, or your dramatic flare will make my own look paltry in comparison,” he chided in a soft tone, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy to the unfortunate situation. 

Too long had the Twili allowed himself out into this world’s sunlight, his body now paying the price. Zant had assured both he and Master Ganon, between pants and high whines in Twilian, that he merely needed a rest away from the light and his body would recuperate on its own. The demon sword had no such intentions on leaving the odd king alone in his suffering, however. 

Kneeling next to the pillows, the rune marked feet and the fingers of the left hand all that were visible from under the mound of blankets, Ghirahim set his arm load to the floor and reached forward. He carefully peeled back the layers of material, unperturbed by the stifling darkness they had shrouded their tent with. As one also born in a realm without light, he would have to suggest they don their living quarters in such a way in the future. 

Until then, he had a lover to tend to. Pulling down the final covers, he cooed and traced the sweat dampened face, finger tips lit by the gentle, natural glow of the Twili’s facial markings. 

“I do not know how you can stand the insufferable heat under there, darling, it cannot be beneficial to your recovery.” Zant had always preferred to be warm, though, just as Master Ganon. Still, the amount of sweat drenching the usurper king’s pale face could not be healthy. 

Dipping into the cool water, he rung out the cloth and dabbed Zant’s forehead with a quiet tsk. “I can not fathom what you would do with me.” He leaned down, cloth caressing the overheated skin once more before his lips followed, kissing the facial runes tenderly. 

“Are you feeling any better today?” 

The plumped, pouting lip he got in response was more than enough an answer for the demon lord. Kissing down the oddly curved nose, Ghirahim pressed their lips together for a tender moment. “Your energies are certainly feeling brighter than yesterday, it won’t be long now, my shadow,” he murmured against the other’s mouth. 

A gloved hand smoothed over the tangled red hair as the spirit lifted his lover’s upper body from the pillows and slipped underneath him, guiding Zant to relax back against his cool chest. Soft cooes fell from his lips as he situated them in a comfortable recline, arms wrapped loosely around the ill Twili. 

Content in the quiet moment together, Ghirahim was startled when Zant spoke for the first time in days. 

“Tell story to me, my spirit?” 

The question was croaked and hoarse, so unlike the normally lilted tones that flowed from his lover, but Ghirahim replied with an airy chuckle and a whispered, “Of course, darling.”, before settling them down further into the pillows. 

“Let me see here, once upon a time-” He chuckled at the weak whack and huff he received for beginning so childishly. “Hush, or I won’t tell a story at all.” Grinning as he was met with expectant silence, the sword spirit began again. “Once upon a time, long ago in an age of darkness, a lesser, though still beautiful, demon was selected by his king to take part in an ancient ceremony. 

His soul bound in tamahagane, corporeal body fusing with the otherworldly metal, his magic flourished under the guidance of the mighty king as his strength grew by the day. Forged into a weapon of legend, this demon served his king and wielder loyally for millennia. From times of relative peace and through battles from the depths of hell, he attended to his master’s needs in both weapon and mortal form. 

When their final battle was at hand, the infuriating goddess attempting to cast their power from the land, it seemed all was lost. The king was sealed in a cursed prison, his sword left to wander the mortal world until the time would come for him to revive his master once again. Time passed, the great conflict fading into story and legend, and still the sword survived in the shadow, but a whisper of the power he once was despite the magic he lorded over the simple surface dwellers. 

Then, one day, he felt the tug within his diamond chest, pulling towards the sealed confines of his master’s prison and -” 

A soft sound cut off the demon’s tale. He glanced down, feeling the old pains of gemmed core warm at the sight of his lover soothed into a peaceful rest. Zant’s slumber looked to be one of true healing; who was Ghirahim to ruin that with his words. 

Smiling to himself, he lay his cheek to the pillows, watching the rise and fall of the steady breaths as his fingers still absently caressed the contrasted skin tones. “Rest well, my shadow. The morrow brings a new adventure at our master’s side.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tamahagane - "tama" meaning "round and precious", and "hagane" meaning "steel", high quality swords were forged in this "gem steel" in Japanese tradition


End file.
